


Beer-Bottle Eyes

by theappleppielifestyle



Series: driving fast down dark roads [1]
Category: The Avengers
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe: High School, High School, M/M, highschool!au, tony is an alcoholic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can stop if I want to,” Tony says, and something inside him feels like drowning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beer-Bottle Eyes

Tony wakes up and wishes he hadn’t.

His head is throbbing. His movements are sluggish, almost drugged-

He’s in a hospital.

He’s in a hospital bed with hospital sheets, staring up at the hospital ceiling and he’s hooked up to a hospital IV and he’s wearing a fucking hospital gown.

“Fuck,” Tony mumbles.

“Fuck,” Someone next to him agrees, and Tony doesn’t yelp, but it’s a close thing.

Steve blinks innocently at him from a chair.

Pepper, beside him, more or less glares.

“God, Rogers, watch your mouth,” Tony tries for suave but probably comes out as choked. “Uh, would one of you would kindly tell me what happened?”

“You’re an idiot is what happened,” Pepper snaps. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was busy before I had to come to the hospital to see if your sorry ass was okay. Which it is. Which is great. Goodbye.”

She stomps angrily over to Tony’s bed, smacks a kiss on his forehead and storms out, practically radiating anger.

“That woman,” Tony says, “Is going to take over the world one day, I swear. And since she didn’t actually explain anything-“

“You got alcohol poisoning,” Steve says, and there’s something in his voice. 

Tony nods. “Bound to happen sometime or later. When do I get discharged? Do nurses except bribes, because I really just want to get ho-“

“ _Tony,”_ Steve says in that tone that he uses too often. “You got alcohol poisoning. As in, you got it from drinking too much. As in, _you drank so much you got alcohol poisoning._ Doesn’t that worry you?”

Tony blinks. “No? Is it supposed to? Steve, you know I drink-“

“Yeah, I know you drink! I know you drink too much for your own good, but god, Tony, you have to stop at some point-“

“I can stop if I want to,” Tony says, and something inside him feels like drowning.

Steve starts to say something, but Tony cuts him off, grinning. “Steve, seriously, I’m fine.”

Steve braces his palms against his knees, his voice strained. “I’ve known you since you started learning advanced physics, which was _second grade.”_ Steve huffs out a laugh.

“Which is _terrifying,_ by the way, since I still don’t know how to do it.”

Pause.

“God, Tony, do you honestly think I don’t know what your fake smile looks like by now?” 

Everything seems too quiet all of a sudden. 

“I’m fine,” Tony repeats.

-

Predictably, on Monday, everyone pays more attention to Tony than usual.

“Hey, Stark, is it true that you fell in a lake?”

“Tony! Did you really check yourself into a mental hospital?”

“To-nyyy! My MAN! Did you actually get in a mob hit?” 

Natasha raises her eyebrows. “I worry about how information circulates at this school.”

Tony opens his mouth to ask if she had really just quoted ‘Easy A,’ but instead just shrugs. “The news didn’t say anything about it, so I guess some assholes have to come up with theories. Did you hear the one about Britney Spears? That one’s my favourite.”

Natasha says something about the complete lack of Britney Spears they have, and Tony ‘hmm’s in agreement, doodling equations on the back of his left hand.

Natasha snaps her fingers in front of his face. “Are you paying attention?”

“Nope,” Tony says, trying to fit more onto his thumb.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’m going to go steal Clint’s homework. Turns out the guy’s actually good at biology, who knew?”

“Okay,” Tony says, not listening.

“And then I’m going to go have hot, sweaty lesbian sex with Pepper in the janitor’s closet,” Natasha continues.

From behind her, Pepper clears her throat.

Natasha turns. “Oh. Hey. Tony’s on autopilot. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Pepper sits down in Natasha’s spot, sliding her bag onto the table and jostling Tony’s arm so he startles. 

“Hey, Pep. When did you get here?”

“How much alcohol do you have on you at this very moment?” Pepper asks.

Tony opens and closes his mouth. “Wow, right to the point. Uh, not much.”

“No?” Pepper arches her eyebrows. “So if I rifle around in your pockets, I won’t find any flasks, or if I go into your bag-“

“Nope, no alcohol, and no porn, either,” Tony says. “Enough with the third degree, jeez.”

“Tony,” Pepper says, and stops.

“Yes?” Tony flutters his eyelashes mockingly.

Pepper sighs. “We’re worried about you.”

Tony flashes his teeth. “What’s there to worry about?”

He makes some bullshit excuse about going to physics class, and half-runs outside, uncaps a bottle and takes a swig.

\- 

“Steve!” 

Steve doesn’t even bother turning around as Bucky falls into step beside him.

Bucky breathes out heavily. “Hey, you know how you’re awesome, and that we’re also best mates and will be forever and ever?”

Steve snorts. “I’m as bad at tests as you are, Bucky. And I’m not going to cheat for you.”

“But you’re the only one who has that class with me-“

“No, Bucky.”

Bucky rolls his shoulders. “Fine. Good luck passing your Spanish test.”

Steve groans. “I’m never even going to need to know Spanish- Bucky, I don’t care if I fail, I’m not cheating.”

“Great. That’s helpful. Thanks a bunch.” Bucky pops his knuckles, ignoring Steve’s look of disgust. ”Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go terrorize some freshmen.”

“Don’t be too hard on them,” Steve calls over his shoulder.

“I’ll send you their kneecaps!” Bucky hollers back as he turns the corner to the main building.

Steve turns back and yelps. “Jeez! What is it with people sneaking up on me today?”

“And hello to you, too, gorgeous,” Tony grins, all predatory grace that makes Steve stumble a bit.

But that’s Tony- 100 miles an hour with no shifts down in gear (or emergency break), hurricanes, forest fires, throwing light across the hallways and lockers and Tony is blinding.

Steve takes a short, quick breath, but it’s hard to stay nervous around a grin like that. He quickly feels the ease seep through him, because it’s Tony, and- it’s Tony. Not because of the grin, because something keeps going off in his head:

_Fake, fake, fake-_

“Hey, Tony. Still going to the pep rally after second period?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tony says dryly, one eyebrow arched.

Steve laughs. “It’s not that bad.”

Tony shrugs. “Cheerleaders with low-cut tops and short skirts. Hmm. Throw some guys with pompoms in there and I might be persuaded.”

Steve flushes slightly. “I doubt Principal Fury would allow that.”

Tony grins again, genuinely, and Steve mentally curses Tony for having such a physical goddamn reaction on him.

“I could call in some favours,” Tony says. “Want to r- fuck, nevermind, you have Art.”

“Plus I don’t ditch, unlike some people,” Steve says pointedly.

“I’m Tony Stark.” Tony’s looking at him from above his trademark sunglasses that always piss the teachers off because he wears them inside.

“I have literally billions of dollars in my bank account, and I could have graduated college by now if I wanted to. Ditching class is the least of my worries.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us can be Tony Stark,” Steve says teasingly.

Tony hesitates, his smile flickering. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Steve watches him for a second. “How drunk are you?”

That’s what he’s been asking nowadays. Not ‘are you drunk.’

-

It’s never quiet at Steve’s house, and Tony loves it.

There’s always a pot bubbling, or the radio on, or Sarah Rogers’s knitting needles clacking, or Steve laughing (Tony likes that one the most).

They walk in, and Steve calls, “Mom?” and Sarah Rogers yells something about not tracking mud all over the carpet, do they know how long it takes her to scrub that out, and they both apologize and Steve rolls his eyes at Tony, like, ‘you know how she can be,’ and the radio is playing some old waltz and Sarah is chopping onions in the kitchen and Tony feels an overwhelming rush of _home._

-

_You are Tony Stark._

It’s in his head as he walks home- he could have gotten Happy to drive him, but he didn’t want to pick up the phone.

_You are Tony Stark. You are Tony Stark. You are T-_

He doesn’t know which part he hates most- ‘Stark’ sounds hard on the tongue, like something you’d bark out. It reeks of his father, and his father’s fucking company, and his father’s fucking guns and wars.

‘Tony,’ however- 

Well.

He walks into his house. Home. House.

“Dad?”

Silence.

He picks up a bottle.

-

Tony hasn’t woken up without a hangover in three weeks.

-

“Tony,” Steve says.

“…Steve,” Tony says.

“Tony,” Steve repeats.

“Ste- are we going to do this all day? ‘Cuz I got stuff to do, and if you’re gonna come in-“ 

Steve sidesteps him and walks into the mansion and, okay, Tony wasn’t expecting that, Steve never comes over to his house, it’s always the other way around.

Tony turns to face him. “What, pray tell, are you doing?”

Steve is carrying a backpack. “Initiating Operation: T.”

Tony nods for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Yeah, no. What the fuck, Steve?”

“Language,” Steve says. “Operation: T is something we all thought up.”

“We?” 

“We. Pepper, Rhodey, Peggy, Clint, Natasha Thor, Bruce and Loki.”

“…Okay. Right. And Operation: T is?”

“Operation Tony,” Steve says. “I’m going to stop you drinking.”

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You-? And how exactly are you going to do that?”

Steve shrugs. “By knocking it out of your hand, if I have to.”

Tony stares at him, incredulous. “You can’t stay with me all day, every day, until I stop drinking.”

Steve’s gaze is unnerving, unwavering, and Tony feels like he’s being shaken by the shoulders.

“I can try.”

-

God damn him, he tries.

He drags Tony all around the house, finding each separate stash, never letting Tony from his sight. He reaches down couches and throws out every flask and bottle he finds, doesn’t look at Tony like he thinks he would when he finds eight empty bottles in his room.

After three hours and Tony cursing out loud how big the house is, Steve finally flops down on the couch in the lounge.

Tony sits down next to him, irritated. “Finished? Dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way, those weren’t just my stashes-“

Tony keeps talking- he’s very good at that- and Steve looks around at the huge lounge. There’s a TV along one wall- it’s literally the size of the wall- and a glass table in the middle of the room. The curtains are drawn (since both people living in the house are perpetually hungover), the couches stretch for about six meters each.

Howard, at the moment, is in Canberra to present his new invention. When he’s home (which is about three days each month), he stays down in his workshop.

Steve is struck by how lonely the house is.

He talks over Tony. “Want to come over?”

Tony is silent for three seconds, before saying, “You forced me to search through my own house for _three hours,_ and now it’ll be completely pointless since I’m going to do the whole sober thing at your house.”

“It won’t be here when you get back,” Steve says.

Tony hesitates. His fingers itch for the neck of a bottle; the slow burn down his throat.

-

Steve remembers how nervous he had been when he had first invited Tony over- his house, compared to Tony’s, was basically the size of Tony’s closet.

But while 8-year-old Tony (with a 10-year-old Steve) had reacted in surprise to Steve’s house, he seemed to have enjoyed it- the small, basic meals, the nights listening to the radio instead of watching the huge flatscreen like they would at Tony’s.

“Hey, Sarah,” Tony beams at Steve’s mother, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the rack.

“Shoes,” Sarah prompts, and Tony toes them off and nudges them into the corner with his bare feet.

Sarah eyes him carefully. “How are you, Tony?”

Tony shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sober, apparently.”

Sarah’s eyes flicker over to Steve, who looks steadily back at her.

Sarah smiles, the warmth in it filling through Tony’s bones.

“Glad to see you two are taking care of each other,” Sarah says, and Tony opens his mouth to say, no, he hasn’t done anything, Steve’s actually better off without him, but she stops him by saying, “Why don’t the two of you go and study?”

-

“I see your humble abode hasn’t changed,” Tony says, flopping down on the guest bed in Steve’s room. “Exam papers all over the beds, your painting shit everywhere. Whatever would your mother say?”

“She says she’s fine with it as long as I pass my exams,” Steve says, leaning against the wall on his own bed.

“Huh,” Tony says. “How’s that going?”

Steve fiddles with one of his favourite paintbrushes. “Okay, I guess. I’ve gotten mostly A’s for this semester, and I’m thinking of applying for an art scholarship.”

“Yeah?” Tony’s grin is strangely genuine. “You should do it. You’re really good.”

“…Thank you,” Steve says, surprised.

Tony sees his expression and snorts. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m not a complete dick 24/7, you know.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Steve says, a bit too fast. 

Tony looks at him, and there’s something in his gaze that Steve can’t identify.

Then it’s gone and Tony mutters, “Yeah, whatever.”

-

The instigators of Operation: T come to Steve’s house around 10 at night.

Tony opens the door and they’re all standing there.

“I hate you all,” Tony says.

“The feeling’s mutual, asshole,” Natasha says, her face blank. “Let us in.”

Tony’s “I should let you rot out here” is cut off by Steve waving them in.

Thor barrels inside first, declaring how clean his house is, and everyone else files in, nodding at Sarah.

Pepper, Natasha, Bruce, Steve and Loki all steal each other’s homework, trying to figure out the latest torture that Mr. Coulson has set them for algebra.

Clint, Thor, Rhodey, Bucky, Peggy and Tony get popcorn all over the kitchen and pretend not to notice when Sarah throws out the wine she has in the top shelf.

Tony laughs with the others and and leans back and thinks _You are Tony Stark_ and wishes he could stop himself from thinking that, wishes he could keep this, this feeling in his chest, how it’s so light, and tries not to think of how much worse everything is going to get.

-

Tony leans on the doorframe of Steve’s room. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Steve frowns as he pulls a pillowcase onto Tony’s pillow. “I always make the guest bed.”

Tony rolls his eyes and sits down on the half-made bed. “You know what I mean, Steve. You guys look at me like I’m a bomb that’s about to go off. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself. You don’t have to watch me.”

Steve sits down next to Tony. “Better than going to AA.” 

Tony winces and Steve backtracks.

“Sorry, sorry- It’s just- you drink before class, and before class, and after school. We’ve all been blackout drunk at some point, it’s not a big deal, but none of us have seen you fully sober for a year. You’re only seventeen, and you keep saying that you can stop if you want to-“

“I can’t.” 

Steve looks up from his hands, expecting to see collected Tony, calm Tony, Tony with the pin-on smirk that he uses to charm reporters and paparazzi and, hell, pretty much everyone when he wants to. 

Instead he gets raw Tony, worried Tony, broken Tony, and Steve’s known him for years and he’s never seen him like this.

“I’ve tried to stop,” Tony blurts, and, god, his hands are shaking. “I’ve thrown it all out before, but I always find some more, and when I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is get a drink, and- fuck, when I go out I always keep a flask on me, even when where I’m going has alcohol. I- Fuck, Steve,” his voice cracks and he shoves his palm against his forehead, rakes his fingers through his hair.

Steve hesitates before covering Tony’s knee with his hand. “You’ll be fine.” He laughs weakly. “I’ll be on Tony-watch.” 

Tony huffs out a laugh. “Lucky me.”

Steve watches the rise and fall of Tony’s chest, how his eyes are wet, how his hair is a mess. The hand on Tony’s knee stays there as Steve leans forwards and presses his mouth to Tony’s.

Tony’s kissed a lot of people. As in, a lot of people. And he’s good at it, seriously. He’s had great feedback. But his brain sort of shortwires and he just sits there with his arms by his sides.

Steve pulls back abruptly after a few seconds and Tony still hasn’t started kissing back. “Sorry, I, uh-“

Tony doesn’t maul his mouth, but it probably looks like it.

He puts his hands around the back of Steve’s head and pulls him so their lips mash together. It’s sloppy and their teeth clack together twice, but it’s far too good than it should be and Steve’s smiling when they finally pull apart again.

And because Tony is Tony, he manages to choke: “I think I’m going to like Tony-watch.”

Steve starts to laugh and Tony’s fingers sting again, but this time for Steve.


End file.
